The Secret of Othello Page 9

  He knocked. “Mom? You okay?”

  “Come on in,” she said.

  Brian entered carefully. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding a framed picture taken when they’d first moved to Fisher Key over the winter. Mom and Henrik were smiling widely, and Brian was standing in the middle with a more somber look. He remembered that day. The real estate agent had tried to cajole him into smiling, but he’d resented moving down from Massachusetts.

  “Everything was supposed to be wonderful for us down here,” Mom said, her eyes bright but her voice steady. “You make plans, and you have hopes, and then everything goes wrong.”

  “Not everything,” Brian said.

  “Everything,” she repeated. With a sigh, she put the picture aside and gave him a direct look. “But when we make a mess, we clean it up. I’m not your responsibility, Brian.”

  He hadn’t moved from the doorway. “I know that.”

  “I don’t think you do,” she said sadly. “This is your time. You’ve worked hard in school, you’ve had your hopes set on MIT for years, and we’re going to figure out this financial aid problem. But even if the worst happens and you have to defer one semester—semester, not year—you don’t have to babysit me.”

  Brian’s face felt warm. He knew he was blushing. “You heard what I said to Christopher.”

  Mom stood, crossed the room, and gave him a hug. She still smelled like wine, and he wasn’t sure she was sober. But it felt nice to get a hug. It reminded him of the days before Henrik, when it had been just the two of them against the world.

  “You’re going to live your life and I’m going to live mine,” she said. “We’ll figure this out.”

  When he returned to his room, he turned off the lights and crawled into bed. The patio door was still open. He could hear the Gulf of Mexico washing up gently on the tiny beach below, and distant lights revealed boats on the water. Brian didn’t check his phone again. Instead he curled around a pillow and wondered where Denny was and what he was thinking.

  In the morning, when he checked his messages, he saw exactly what Denny had been thinking.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said, as she drank steadily from a tall glass of orange juice. “Do you care if I go to Key West for the weekend?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The second day of diving with Brad and Tristan started out better, at least as far as Steven was concerned. For starters, they showed up on time. Brad didn’t seem to notice that Denny was quiet and hiding behind sunglasses. If Tristan noticed signs of a hangover, she didn’t say anything.

  Steven, on the other hand, was more than delighted to talk extra-loud around Denny, and to eat two greasy sausage-muffin combos in front of him, and generally irritate him any way possible.

  “Get away from me before I toss you into the ocean,” Denny growled when Steven followed him up to the wheelhouse.

  “What? Am I bothering your delicate constitution?”

  “I’ll bother you with a punch in the face.”

  Steven decided to temporarily retreat, if only to plan more irritation for later on.

  Tristan holed up down in the galley, reading her astronomy book again. Pouring coffee for himself, Steven asked, “Is that what you’re going to study? Astronomy?”

  “Astrophysics,” she said.

  “Same difference.”

  “Hardly.”

  “What, you sit in a lab staring at a computer all day instead of sitting in an observatory staring at the sky? How’s that going to improve the world?”

  Tristan flipped the page. “Is that what you think we should all do? Improve the world?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Because it gets you blown up,” she said. “Or shot, or killed, or paralyzed from the waist down.”

  Steven sipped the coffee. Hot and black, but not as bitter as she sounded. “Is that how your dad feels about it?”

  “No, it’s my own opinion.”

  “It’s a pretty sucky one.”

  “Says you,” Tristan replied. “Matthew and I feel differently.”

  “Who’s Matthew? Your boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  Steven asked, “What’s the point of living your life if you’re not going to make a difference?”

  “I can make a difference by discovering the origin of the universe,” she said. “What does the military do to better the world? By its very definition, war is all about death and destruction. You’re not saving the village, you’re burning it down.”

  “The military helps people get rid of dictators and torturers,” Steven said. “What are you, a pacifist?”

  “It’s possible to change the world through non-violence. Look what Gandhi did. And Martin Luther King.”

  Steven made a gagging noise. “Sorry. I always get nauseated in the face of blind idealism. You know what happened to Gandhi and King? They got shot.”

  “Is your girlfriend as militant as you?” Tristan asked.

  Steven had forgotten his little white lie. Had he told her he was dating Kelsey or Jen? He said, “Militant or not, when someone’s got a gun pointed at someone I love, non-violence is the least likely option I’m going to go for.”

  “Which is why you and I are never going to be on the same page,” she said.

  And thank goodness for that, not if her page was full of abstract science and impractical views of the world. Steven had met too many criminals to believe in touchy-feely justice, and knew too many good soldiers and lawmakers to think their occupation was all about destruction.

  He went back on deck to check over their gear, and was surprised when Brad asked, “Tristan getting your goat?”

  “What? No.”

  “She does,” Brad said, very casual about it. “She likes to rile people up. And I say that as someone who loves her.”

  Steven squinted against the sun. They had several more minutes before they reached Rum Reef, and he supposed making nice with Brad made good business sense. “She doesn’t like the military.”

  “She holds a grudge,” Brad admitted. “She gives my brother a hard time, too, saying the Coast Guard should stick to poachers.”

  “It doesn’t sound like she knows much about what they do,” Steven said, thinking about all the things that would be required of Denny at school: learning seamanship, law enforcement, and rules of international waters.

  Brad turned over his camera and inspected the battery pack. “We all have our blind spots.”

  Steven didn’t know if that was supposed to be an apology for the argument yesterday, but he was willing to take it as one. They sat in companionable silence, inspecting the regulators and hoses, while the Idle carried them farther from shore. A glint on the horizon proved to be the Coast Guard, accompanied by the Othello I and Othello II. Steven had noticed the Othello II leaving port early that morning.

  “I guess they still haven’t found their satellite,” he said.

  Brad asked, “Who?”

  “A contractor named Othello Industries,” Steven said. “Ever hear of them?”

  The older man looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe, once or twice. Nothing that stands out very much. Like a lot of defense companies, they were hurt by the dismantling of the space shuttle program. What kind of satellite?”

  “They say it was a weather gauge.”

  Brad shook his head. “Weather satellites aren’t designed to survive reentry through the atmosphere. If they’re looking for something sturdy enough for that, it’s not going to be carrying weather information.”

  “I knew it!” Steven said. “What could it be?”

  “Military intelligence, probably. Nothing for kids to worry about.”

  Steven scowled at him, but Brad only smirked and went back to checking his equipment.

  By nine thirty they were moored near Rum Reef and the remains of a Civil War wreck. They had the whole site to themselves. Denny didn’t volunteer to go into the water and Steven wasn’t heartless enough to make him, so he went under with
Tristan and Brad. Visibility was even better today than yesterday. Steven wished he’d brought his own camera along. He liked the way the light rippled around them, and the big white and pink sea fans, and the plants that rippled in the current.

  Tristan was wearing a yellow bikini today under her BC. She was all curves and smooth skin. Steven kept himself from looking at her. The nice thing about Jen was she had no opinions about the military, and the nice thing about Kelsey was she was a pragmatist. Tristan seemed like one of those uppity intellectuals who were happy to criticize the military until they themselves were in jeopardy. He hated people like that.

  A sleek young dolphin darted by them, followed by a larger one. A mom and her kid playing around. Steven didn’t see the rest of the pod, but they were somewhere nearby. Tristan grinned behind her mask as the dolphins made another sweep. Steven smiled back, entirely by reflex, before he caught himself and stopped.

  He didn’t like her, and he wasn’t about to start liking her. In three days she’d be out of his life and on her snooty way to college, which was absolutely fine with him.

  *

  Denny’s new phone didn’t get reception this far from land, but that didn’t stop him from checking it out of habit. He was trying to forget his headache and the slow roll his stomach did every now and then. Coffee helped, and more aspirin, and boy, he was never again drinking three beers (or maybe it had been four, he wasn’t quite sure) on a mostly empty stomach after a day of scuba diving and a night of having the roof fall in.

  He’d been alone for about twenty minutes on the Idle when his stomach lurched again. But this wasn’t the hangover speaking. The wind had kicked up, bringing choppy waves. He scanned the horizon, noting an increase in clouds, and checked the weather radio. The forecast for a mostly sunny day had changed for the worse.

  Steven, Tristan, and Brad returned on schedule. Tristan talked excited about dolphins but Steven’s gaze had already gone to the darkening sky.

  “Weather’s turning bad,” Denny said. “We’re going to have to turn back.”

  Brad asked, “What? For a little rain?”

  “A lot of rain, according to the marine forecast,” Denny said. “Sorry.”

  Brad grumbled and Tristan looked disappointed, but soon the clouds were directly overhead and the first raindrops had started to patter down. Steven suggested they carry Brad below but he insisted a little water wasn’t going to hurt him. Tristan stayed with him on the bench, both of them huddled under a tarp and outfitted with life preservers, as Steven kept watch and Denny brought the Idle back to Fisher Key.

  “What are we supposed to do for the rest of the day?” Brad complained as they hauled his camera and gear back to his van.

  “You could head down to Key West,” Steven suggested. “The Fisher Museum’s kind of interesting.”

  The words Key West triggered a vague memory for Denny. Something about a hotel? He had left his phone back up in the wheelhouse. When he checked it, he found a voice mail had come in while they’d been out at sea.

  “Okay,” Brian said in the message. “I’d love to. Mom’ll be okay if I’m gone for a night or two.”

  Denny had no idea what he was talking about. Love to what? Gone where? Uneasy, he checked his phone log. He’d sent Brian a message that he didn’t even remember:

  come to key west weekend

  for my test please make it special

  stay sat night nice hotel

  miss you please come.

  He groaned and thumped his head against the nearest bulkhead.

  What was he going to tell his parents and Aunt Riza now?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rain cleared out, but strong winds and a cloudy forecast ruled out a trip back to sea. Denny and Steven swung by the house to see if there was anything they could do to help. Dad was there, eating lunch while leaning against the hood of his police cruiser. Roofers were up on top of the house and a portable storage pod had been put on the lawn for the furniture the workers were carrying out.

  “If I’d known you were coming I would have brought extra sandwiches,” Dad said.

  Denny’s stomach grumbled at the smell of tuna fish. “Weather forced us back. I’ll give you a silver dollar for half of your sandwich.”

  Dad jerked his thumb toward the front seat. “How about some potato chips for free?”

  Denny grabbed the large bag of chips. Dad wasn’t acting mad or weird about dinner last night, which was good. But he didn’t yet know about the monumental mistake Denny had made with his phone.

  “Any mail come in?” Steven asked, and Denny knew exactly what he was looking for: that waiver for BUD/S.

  “Nothing,” Dad said. “Sorry.”

  Denny offered him a consolation potato chip.

  Steven took it and then squinted at the workers and asked, “Is that my dresser?”

  “They’re clearing out your whole room,” Dad said. “The carpet’s coming out, too. Your room and mine.”

  Denny said, “What about all our stuff?”

  “I pulled out what I could,” Dad said. “Water damaged a lot, and there’s mold, too. Guess there’s been a slow leak for a while now. You’ll both need new mattresses and box springs.”

  “Do we really?” Steven asked.

  Dad asked, confused, “You want to sleep on the floor?”

  “No, I mean he’s going away and I’m going away eventually.” Steven grabbed the bag of chips and ate a large one. “You could turn our room into, I don’t know. A sewing room?”

  “Who in this family sews?” Denny asked, frowning.

  “Or a guest room,” Steven proposed.

  Denny took the chips back. “I want my room back.”

  “Don’t be a baby,” Steven said. “You’re going to spend most of the next four years away, and you’ll be back only on vacations.”

  Dad finished his sandwich. “And you?”

  Steven shrugged. “If I don’t get my waiver, I could move out and get an apartment somewhere.”

  Sometimes Denny just didn’t understand what was going on in his brother’s head. “An apartment. With who? Eddie?”

  “You don’t have to sound like it’s the stupidest idea in the world,” Steven said, his gaze narrowing.

  “But it is,” Denny said. “Unless you’re going to pay his rent for him. Besides, your waiver’s going to come through.”

  Steven grunted but didn’t say anything. Dad sipped from a can of soda and watched the workers. Gulls fought over something on the shore of the lagoon, their wings flapping angrily.

  “How’s Mom today?” Denny asked.

  “Happily going through carpet samples,” Dad said. “You’d think this tree falling in was the best thing that ever happened.”

  Steven said, “And Aunt Riza?”

  “Is still herself,” Dad said succinctly.

  Denny said, “Steven, why don’t you go see if there’s anything left in our room we should have?”

  Steven ate the last potato chip and crumpled up the bag. “Like what?”

  Denny replied, clearly and slowly, “I don’t know. That’s why you should go check.”

  “Oh,” Steven said, switching his gaze from Denny to Dad and back again. “Whatever.”

  Steven ambled off toward the house. Denny waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “I kind of made a mistake last night.”

  Dad’s eyebrows arched. “Is this a I-have-to-arrest-you kind of mistake?”

  “No! I sorta maybe invited Brian to come down with me to Key West for the black belt test. And to spend the weekend.” Denny didn’t dare look at his father. “And I know, this whole thing with Aunt Riza’s not settled, but I was kind of not thinking, and it sort of…just came out. And he wants to go, and you know what? I only have twenty days left before I go away, and I want to do this.”

  “Huh,” Dad said.

  The wind picked up, tugging at the roof tarp. One of the roofers nailed down a loose corner. Denny waited for Dad to say more bu
t nothing came.

  Denny asked, “Is that it?”

  “I guess,” Dad said.

  Denny squinted at him. Dad had that inscrutable expression on his face, the one he used most often with criminal suspects and people undergoing police interrogation.

  “You’re thinking that I got myself into this mess so I need to get myself out of it,” Denny said.

  “More or less.”

  “But I really want to take this test,” Denny insisted. “And we had it scheduled first. It’s totally unfair for Aunt Riza to have a party the same day.”

  Dad said, “A party for you, kiddo.”

  “I didn’t ask for one.”

  “Sometimes family does stuff for us without even asking,” Dad said, just as his radio came to life in the cruiser. “Because they love us.”

  That was a crummy thing to say, because it was true. And Denny knew what he had to do, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He listened to the dispatcher tell Dad about a car accident up on the Overseas Highway and moved away from the cruiser.

  “On my way,” Dad said to the dispatcher. Then, to Denny, “I’ll see you both later, okay?”

  “Okay,” Denny said.

  Steven returned a few minutes later, clutching some soggy paperbacks and his favorite running shirt. “This is all I could find. Did you tell Dad whatever’s bothering you that you couldn’t tell me?”

  “It’s nothing,” Denny sighed, but shared the story of the drunken text message.

  “Ha.” Steven got into his truck and turned the ignition. “I knew I should have taken your phone away from you. What are we going to do about the test?”

  Denny climbed into the passenger side. “You’re going to go to Key West and I’m going to go to Miami.”

  “That’s what Dad said?”

  “No. That’s what I’m going to tell Mom. A compromise.”

  “And Brian?”

  “Will maybe forgive me.” At least, Denny hoped that he would.

  Steven turned onto the road. He was quiet for a half mile, his hands tight on the wheel. Then he said, “I’m not taking it without you. Sensei Mike will postpone it if we ask.”